


The Curse of the Fluff Castle

by Blaire_Seton



Series: Be Careful What You Wish For [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Betaed, Canon Universe, Dracula Influence/References, Fluff, Fluff is the villain, Geralt Fluff Week (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hugs, Humor, It wants your soul, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lightly Hammer Horror Inspired, M/M, Magic, Metafiction, Mutual Pining, Parody, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Romance, Spells & Enchantments, True Love, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaire_Seton/pseuds/Blaire_Seton
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier confront the most dangerous and paralysing antagonist so far: happiness.Luckily, they emerge unscathed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Be Careful What You Wish For [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866862
Comments: 29
Kudos: 152
Collections: Geralt Fluff Week 2020





	The Curse of the Fluff Castle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valdomarx (cptxrogers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this little fic I wrote for [Geralt Fluff Week](https://geraltfluffweek.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> As my brilliant friend and beta [LovelyRita1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) would tell you, writing fluff is simply not something I do. She is the master of the genre, though, so check out her [ fluffy, heart-warming writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) if cuddly, warm feelings are what you're after ❤️ Also, look out for [her submission for Fluff Week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694254). We're publishing the same day.
> 
> I invite you to consider my slightly subversive approach to the topic. A little meta, parody-ish, trope-torturing, and ambiguous but still full of fuzzy Geraskier feelings. Only is it, really? 
> 
> Tagging this is a nightmare. I want to say... First time?? Kissing?? Fluff?? Happy ending?? I guess you have to give it a go and find out 😛 There is a hug, though, as Day 4 of Geralt Fluff Week dictates. 
> 
> It was meant to be a silly thing (and still is), but I kept overthinking until I got caught up in some Plato-inspired reflections about the nature of love. 
> 
> Here we go with a quotation from Richard Kraut's _The Oxford Handbook of Plato_ , 'Plato on Love' to set the scene:
> 
> 'Eros and Philia are the two Greek words, which can be translated as love in English. [...] Erôs, unlike philia, picks out a type of desire that drives people, under certain conditions, to physical contact—to touch, to kiss, to embrace, to “make love”—and also to think obsessively of the person who is loved and to be filled with longing when he or she is absent.
> 
> But philia is not necessarily low in affect. Although it can be applied to nearly any group of cooperative associates, it is the word that would most naturally be used to name the strong feeling and close relationship that exists among family members and also among close friends, whether or not they are sexually attracted to each other. To call two people philoi is to suggest neither that there is nor that there is not an erotic component to their relationship.'
> 
> And since it's Plato, the real question seems to be 'what is better: love or the idea of love'? And, of course, what's the difference? 😂
> 
> Dedicated to [valdomarx(cpxrogers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers). I hope your fluff fairy arrived on time. Thanks again for your fantastic writing, your joy of a blog, and for being such a kind and lovely person ❤️ You've said so many nice things about my writing and showered me with views so now I will love you forever ❤️ I'l try not to be annoying about it 😛 It might not be real fluff but this is a real dedication 😂

_In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it._ – Oscar Wilde, 'Lady Windermere’s Fan'

‘Geralt, why can’t we act like civilized people for once?’ Jaskier asked while pouring rain water out of his lute.

The water splashed on a wooden floor of the tavern. He shook the lute slightly, and little droplets hit a man sitting behind him. It was a brawny local who turned around, annoyed, but then just ignored them, and turned back to sip on his beer, seemingly indifferent to their conversation. The bowl in front of him was filled with sad-looking sludge. 

‘All I’m saying is,’ Jaskier started again, ‘we could let our clothes dry, and maybe find a pleasant place that serves actual food.’

Geralt was clearly not enjoying Jaskier’s whinging. He was quite tired himself. 

‘We could stay the night,’ Jaskier added, sounding hopeful.

Geralt’s eyes involuntarily followed a group of young people stumbling in through the narrow door. They sat around a long table nearby, loud and unruly, calling out for the barmaid who was struggling with a heavy tray, her hands growing weak under the weight of more beer than a person can handle.

‘We’re almost there,’ Geralt growled. ‘It won’t take long. You can have all the food and rest you want, _after_ we leave.’

‘Oh, yes, sure. Why would I expect you to care that my last meal might consist of incinerated corpses of local pigeons play-acting as chicken.’ Jaskier made a futile attempt to squeeze some water out of his hair. ‘It’s not hard to tell, you know. Chickens are not that small.’ 

‘We’re going to be perfectly fine,’ Geralt muttered, losing his patience. ‘The locals are exaggerating. It makes them feel special. It attracts attention.’

‘Really?’ Jaskier frowned. ‘You’re lecturing _me_ on the power of storytelling?’

‘Exactly. These are stories, nothing more.’ Geralt bit into his portion of meat, using his hands and caring little for decorum. ‘And we’ve heard enough. We don’t mention the place to any of them again,’ he said, his eyes set on Jaskier and narrowing slightly.

‘Why are you staring at me like that?’

‘You keep provoking them. And if I see another go mad over it... Although,’ he said, nodding, ‘at least the panic makes them pay well. That’s all _I_ need to know.’

Jaskier didn’t look convinced. He shivered a bit. The cold, wet clothes were sticking to his body. His attempts to impale the burnt meat on a dirty fork were failing. The man behind his back was stirring, and turning around from time to time. Jaskier looked up at Geralt and sighed, loudly. ‘Nothing more than stories, you say?’

‘Mhm.’

‘See…’ He couldn’t stop himself. ‘Stories don’t come out of nowhere. Especially ones like that. I heard enough today to give me material _for years_. And that… is rare.’ His excitement was breaking through his tiredness and his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. ‘The premise is simple enough. They go into some gruesome fortress, moonlight shining, wolves howling... the door closes, and nobody hears from them ever again, right?’

‘Supposedly.’ 

‘But that’s not quite true considering so many people got out and…’

‘I was there, you know,’ Geralt interrupted, already sensing where Jaskier’s analysis was going. ‘I have listened to hours of confused ramblings about the fucking place.’

‘Oh, stop that,’ Jaskier bristled at Geralt’s unwillingness to breach the topic. ‘There’s _something_ here, I swear.’ His hands shot up and Geralt’s eyes followed the movement. ‘The disappearances are interesting enough. Can we at least agree on that?’ Geralt looked persistently indifferent. ‘Great, fine, if you say so.’ 

Geralt still didn’t say a thing. 

‘But what about the story of the snobbish count who escaped, and then eloped with his maid?’ Jaskier chewed on the disgusting meat without complaint. ‘Not exciting? It was to _some_ people. I bet it was retold a hundred times. You can tell by it sounding like a fever dream, but like… a marketable one.’

‘And that still doesn’t make you think this shit is made up?’ 

‘No,’ he protested with indignation but then considered it. ‘On some level it doesn’t matter. From a purely narrative perspective…’

‘Ah.’

Jaskier just blinked a few times, then sighed. ‘So what about the farmer who found his long lost child? And that princess who left the court to live alone by the sea? Not to even mention that when couples go in together, they never return.’ He was gesticulating more intensely. His hands cut through the air, but there was little space, as a few men were just squeezing by their table to get to the counter. ‘If I wrote this, I would suggest we’re dealing with a place that somehow makes you realise what is missing, what you truly want. Or maybe…’ He sorted through various options in his mind. ‘Maybe it _gives_ you what you want and traps you that way.’

‘You’re overthinking this.’

Jaskier regarded him thoughtfully, but then was jostled by another man trying to get by. ‘How is _this_ place so busy?’ his question was rhetorical but he stared at Geralt expecting an answer regardless. ‘Either way, it was imaginative, inspiring…. not a thing a random person would come up with without a prompt, if you know what I mean.’

‘The stories are bullshit. The villagers just choose to be overdramatic about it. I bet it’s just some people escaping the town. Others can’t stop blabbering on.’ He looked across the room and he saw more locals staring at them. ‘It’s a bit much.’

‘Yes, so overdramatic,’ Jaskier nodded eagerly. ‘A joy to listen to.’ 

Geralt rolled his eyes at that, and then tilted his head a bit. ‘But you not only listened, you also _spoke_.’

‘What?’ Jaskier’s question seemed genuine. ‘All I said was…’ He considered it for a minute. ‘Well, if that place does help people to overcome _some_ inhibitions then you could certainly...’ 

Geralt’s murderous look would have stopped anybody but Jaskier from talking.

‘What? You are _a little_ closed off and not really one to consider what you want. Am I wrong here?’’ Jaskier knew better than to wait for an answer. ‘And then as far as feelings are concerned… I would never, ever suggest you’re behind in that department, you know I wouldn’t. You feel so much, even now, pure anger, right here.’ He laughed, nervously.

One of Geralt’s eyebrows shot up. 

‘Well, that place seems to be… releasing some pent up passions, don’t you think?’ Jaskier asked, a bit embarrassed. 

‘Just hope I don’t release whatever is pent up in me right now.’ Geralt smiled, threateningly. 

Jaskier didn’t seem affected at all and just prattled on. ‘No, but that doesn’t have to be about… All I meant was that maybe… Maybe you’d be a bit more open with me, if…’

Geralt’s expression made him stop, and he looked flustered for a moment.

‘Fine, I’m sorry.’ Jaskier sounded authentically apologetic. ‘I got _a bit_ carried away. But there’s no way they had even the tiniest, bittiest chance to comprehend what I meant.’ 

‘You made yourself _quite_ _clear_. And they don’t have to understand to keep talking.’ He shook his head at the memory. ‘They just gossip on as they would about _anything_ colourful and unusual.’

Jaskier looked around, a bit unsettled. 

‘Are you suggesting I made them believe we’re engaged in some repressed yet passionate love affair?’ Jaskier asked, lowering his voice, eyes glistening at the thought. ‘A witcher and a bard? Not a story they've heard before.’ Geralt’s vacant stare deterred him from going further and he jumped back to his previous point. ‘Wait, _colourful_ and _unusual_? Really?’ 

Geralt gave him an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look which lingered on Jaskier's fancy, turquoise doublet. It stood out sharply against the gray mass of locals moving behind him. ‘Mhm,’ he hummed, his eyes still fixed on the only richly clad bard in the village. ‘Do you know what gossiping townspeople do with colourful and unusual things, especially ones that don’t shut up when they should?’

‘What?’ Jaskier was somehow more curious than offended. 

‘They hang them up on these picturesque hillside trees, like a shiny ornament... by the neck.’

Jaskier stirred in his seat, a bit angry all of a sudden. ‘Really?’ he blurted out a bit louder than intended and flinched. ‘I don’t see any colour on you and yet, they stare at you more than me. Or am I the colourful and you're the unusual?’ He chuckled at the thought. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the attraction here.’

‘No, _we’re_ the attraction,’ Geralt hissed under his breath.

That made Jaskier go quiet for a moment but, ultimately, he was undeterred. ‘There’s some attraction somewhere, that’s for sure,’ he huffed, and then looked around again. All the people looked busy and seemingly uninterested. ‘I’d say, this place has an above average tolerance for extraordinary things,’ he announced with confidence. ‘And I didn’t say anything outrageous. I really struggle to understand. Why can’t we…’

‘That’s quite common,’ Geralt interrupted.

‘What is?’

‘You not understanding why we can’t.’

Jaskier looked hurt for a moment, then cleared his throat, nervously. He stayed silent, and stirred in place again, uncomfortable. ‘I’m just saying we shouldn’t dismiss it outright,’ he said, finally.

‘What? The stories?’

‘Yes, the stories.’

Geralt shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s going to be a spell of some kind. They’re probably just fussing over some old curse, nothing major. I bet they’re trying to compete with the bruxa from the next town over. And they can’t win.’

‘No, at least not as far as the body count is concerned,’ Jaskier admitted, his skin crawling at the thought. ‘But it did add up, what they said. It’s quite romantic, in a way.’ 

Geralt nearly snorted out his beer. ‘Romantic?’ 

‘Well, you know perfectly well what I mean. All the ones who came back had _someone_ waiting and…’ He hesitated, and decided not to finish. 

‘And what?’

‘And some left their families, friends, newly born children… farm animals.’

‘Yes.’

‘But… but the most vivid examples of miraculous escapes always involve people who had somebody they wanted... but, you know, could never be with, for one reason or another.’ He looked at Geralt with some hesitation. ‘And if you went in, you’d need some backup. So it’s only natural…’ He looked away and said the remaining words so quickly, they became indistinguishable. ‘...that I would, you know, make _a bit_ of a joke about that.’ 

Geralt had enough. ‘The man said, “you wouldn’t be the first witcher to disappear there”, and you said, _and I quote_ , “if that’s how it works then Geralt will be just fine because I’ll be there waiting.”’

Jaskier had to stop himself from laughing at the memory. ‘That poor man’s face…’ he snickered. 

Geralt just shook his head, somehow even more exhausted now than a minute ago.

‘It just came out, I…’ Jaskier wanted to justify himself but just chuckled instead.

‘It wasn’t funny to me,’ Geralt added, annoyed.

‘Well, if that makes you feel any better, it’s not really _that_ funny for me either.’

‘Hmmm…’

‘Yes, fucking hmm.’ Jaskier sighed, staring at Geralt with a mix of amusement and irritation. ‘It doesn’t matter what I said. And these stories give us _something_.’

‘False hope, perhaps?’ Geralt was enjoying Jaskier's befuddled look a bit too much. 

‘The only thing I’m suggesting is… There _is_ a reason these stories spread here and take that specific shape.’

‘Yes, the reason is the creepy fucking castle on top of a hill... and people with overactive imaginations. People who…’ he threw a snide look towards Jaskier ‘...should know better than to want things they cannot have.’

‘A hill? Fuck, Geralt. I can’t feel my legs.’ Jaskier raised his voice a little too much, looking around with a weird glint in his eyes, frustrated. He took a deep breath to calm down. ‘What’s the name of that place again?’

‘I don’t know. It’s some unpronounceable nonsense.’ 

‘No, what’s that silly name the locals gave it?’

‘The fluff castle?’

The moment Geralt said it, the huge tray with beer crashed to the ground. The sound of the breaking glass resonated through the crowd. The man behind Jaskier turned around with a gasp and gaped at them. The crowd around them froze and stared in horror. Jaskier let out a hearty laugh in response.

‘I’m so sick of this shit,’ Geralt whispered, resigned.

***

The rain, fierce, was cutting across Jaskier’s face with fury. They were walking against the wind, and struggled to keep moving. It was pushing with full force against them. Although the hill was not steep, they were steadily climbing up for over an hour. Geralt knew he stretched their endurance to the absolute limit the moment he realised Jaskier had chosen to no longer waste any energy on speaking. 

But there it was. Behind a curtain of rain, there was an outline of a big, crumbling castle, high towers, plenty of turrets and some rich, ornamental carvings in the stone. There was ivy wrapped around its walls, tightly snuggling the crenellations, rolling down from hoardings like a green waterfall. The fortress was fancy, Geralt thought, like something out of a fairy tale more so than a sturdy, military structure. Not a gruesome, crumbling castle by any means. Jaskier seemed enchanted by it, and kept looking up despite the water persistently pouring into his eyes. 

As they approached the gate, they saw an inscription above it. It was written in Elder. Geralt read it out while translating.

 _Warning: this place will make your dreams come true_.

They looked at each other, a bit puzzled.

‘A dream can also be translated as _a fantasy_ ,’ Jaskier added as if that was helpful.

They couldn’t discuss it any further because, suddenly, a woman in a long dress, soaking wet, approached them, her movements panicked. Her hands pulled on Geralt’s arm with insistence. 'No, please, dear man!’ she pleaded. ‘Don’t go in there. Many witchers have. Those who survived were never the same.’ 

Geralt tried to ignore her but she held tight to his sleeve. Her knees gave way as she attempted to lead him from the entrance, but he pushed on. 

‘Have mercy on yourself,’ she whined. ‘Or at least on him,’ she raised her voice to break through the roaring of the rain and the wind. ‘Don’t you dare to take him with you,’ she exclaimed, pointing at Jaskier.

He looked back and blinked a few times, visibly insulted by the idea his company might be in any way undesirable. 

Geralt looked up at him, sceptical, his hair stuck to his cheek, eyes filled with doubt. 

Jaskier’s lips were turning blue from the cold, and he was shaking. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ His voice sounded over the rain. ‘You are _not_ leaving me here to freeze, an hour away from that bloody tavern! I’m going in, even _if_ it kills me.’

***

The moment they walked in, and Geralt closed the heavy wooden door behind them, a wall of warmth hit their faces. Jaskier shivered, the change in temperature drastic but far from unwelcome. Geralt could sense a shift in the air. It was subtle, but he could feel his mood transforming suddenly. He looked around as if he hoped for something that could offer an explanation but all he could see was a big flight of stairs, and a door leading to the side. In front of them, however, there was a little table, and on it…

‘Jaskier, don’t touch that!’

Jaskier’s hand stopped right before he grabbed a colourful flower crown sitting on the table and he shook his head, annoyed. ‘No, Geralt. You have to choose. Either the locals are exaggerating or the flower crown is going to murder me. You can’t have it both ways.’

‘Just leave it.’

Geralt was more interested in the door ahead of him. He approached it, listening for any suspicious sounds. There was nothing, just Jaskier dragging his feet as he walked around the corridor, exploring.

Jaskier stopped by a painting of a naked woman, red hair scattered in the wind, frozen still amidst a frantic movement, raising up around her head like a fire. She was riding on a black, frenetic horse, its mouth open, eyes frenzied, foam running down its muzzle. Her white body stood out against the animal’s dark, shiny coat. Her eyes were closed and she kept the horse in a tight, passionate embrace.

He just stared, then looked towards Geralt, and opened his mouth to say something but then just shook his head, and moved on.

In the meantime, Geralt approached the door. It opened easily. He peered in from the safety of the hallway. It was a big room with no windows containing a lot of things scattered around in disarray, some clothes, some bags, a collection of swords and knives leaning on the wall. The door started closing with a creaking sound. Geralt moved back into the hallway and just let it go. He turned around, and instantly huffed with annoyance. ‘For fuck’s sake, Jaskier! I told you to leave it.’

‘What?’

‘The flower crown.’

‘I did!’

‘It’s on your motherfucking head.’

‘No, it’s still on the table.’

Geralt looked and it really was there, clear as day. At the same time, Jaskier ran his hand through his hair and heard something fall on the stone floor. He stared at an identical flower crown in disbelief. ‘Geralt, I swear. I didn’t.’

There was no choice but to investigate. Geralt approached the table and his medallion shifted, lightly. He touched the crown and the moment he did, they heard a knock on the door to the empty room. 

They both looked up, surprised.

The knocking was becoming more and more intense, and the handle started frantically jumping up and down.

They approached it slowly. 

‘Nothing in there but some old rubbish,’ Geralt explained, calmly. Of course, he knew what the rubbish meant, but didn’t want to alert Jaskier. 

Suddenly, he realised that there was a flower crown on his head too, and a single petal rolled down his cheek as he opened the door again. 

Jaskier was just about to step in when Geralt grabbed his doublet from behind and pulled him away from the entrance.

‘You’re not going with me.’

‘Why?’ Jaskier asked, regaining his balance, and carefully tugging his clothes back into place.

‘More than stories, apparently. I need you to wait here.’

Jaskier sighed quietly, disappointed. ‘Sure, just leave me here, why don’t you?’ He turned away, sad, then looked straight back at him, eyes wide. ‘No, wait… Did you just...’ His mind was seizing up.

‘Don’t overthink. Just stay.’ Geralt nodded as if to emphasise the point, then walked in and closed the door in front of Jaskier’s confused face.

The moment he walked in, he heard the lock click behind him. The room transformed itself completely. It was cosy, busy with expensive furniture, and there were colours of the sunset seeping in through the windows. 

Geralt felt some movement by his shoulder and to his surprise, he saw Jaskier standing right beside him. ‘What the fuck? I told you...’ But Jaskier just looked back at him, not bothered at all. ‘I didn’t even hear you open the door. How did you...’ Geralt turned back to the door, and pulled the handle to let him out but the lock was strong, it wouldn’t yield no matter how hard he tried. ‘Fucking perfect!’ 

He felt like he should be furious with Jaskier but wasn’t really. In fact, the moment he turned back to the room, a strong mix of positive feelings hit him all at once. It was an influx of trust, love, and hope. The intense flood of emotions overtook his mind, and there was a sweet, comforting taste in his mouth like a huge gulp of hot chocolate. The whole space radiated with overwhelming, heart-warming power, washing all over them, irresistible. ‘This is horrible,’ Geralt whispered with effort. ‘It feels like… home.’

‘What?’ Jaskier seemed surprised. ‘I don’t feel any different.’ He looked back at Geralt, and blinked a few times, astonished. ‘You're right! Something is wrong. You look ha… happy.’ He kept staring, stupefied. ‘More than that! All your usual low-key repressed desperation is melting away… like snow on a sunny afternoon in the early days of spring.’

‘Like the fuck what?’ Geralt was ready to be annoyed but, shockingly, once again, the wave of frustration never arrived. On the contrary. He looked at Jaskier, who seemed concerned about him, and the fuzzy, warm feelings overwhelmed him even more. ‘Fuck.’

‘What’s wrong now?’

Everything was wrong. Things were getting worse by the second. 

‘Jaskier, I need you to help me here.’

‘How?’

‘I need you to stop…’ Geralt considered the options but the list was endless. Jaskier was shifting weight from one of his legs to the other, hips swimming slightly in unsettlingly endearing ways, his thumb and index finger rubbing together nervously, which was sweet for some unspecified reason, his tongue would occasionally pop out of his mouth, what the fuck even… ‘Could you just stop… being yourself for a second?’

‘Wha…’

Geralt shook his head while slowly realising the ridiculousness of his request. His mind was groggy, each thought leisurely crossing his mind, aimless. Jaskier’s response was also a bit sluggish. He was just about to say something when Geralt cut him off. ‘No, fine,’ he said, his words reaching his own ears with a delay. ‘Forget it.’

Geralt was sure he could control this, whatever the fuck this was. Also, he must be able to find a solution, even with Jaskier there. But he was unable to concentrate or to even begin to analyse the situation. His mind was clouded and relaxed, filled with contentment to a degree that made it impossible for him to question what was happening. He simply didn’t think it mattered, regardless of what it was. His happiness had a sleepy tinge to it, and his usual bitterness and skepticism were sinking deeper and deeper into his mind, until he could barely remember they had been there in the first place. 

Perhaps there was nothing wrong with feeling drowsy and finding everything about Jaskier so intensely lovable. This had happened before, just not to such a severe extent. Although before, the sentiment had been extremely easy to repress. Barely there, in fact. Was it ever there? Regardless, what was the harm in no longer repressing it now? Would it hurt anybody if he gave into the feeling just a little bit? And, of course, if Jaskier really felt this way all the time then why not indulge him?

‘Can I give you a hug?’ The words left Geralt’s throat before he managed to think through the implications.

Jaskier tilted his head a little and looked at him with suspicion. ‘Well, yes, sure, but… are you definitely fine with that? It’s not what you want, really, is it? It’s what this place wants you to do.’

‘Do you think I fucking care?’

‘Oh, fine, then.’ He didn’t need much persuading.

Geralt took a few steps forward, Jaskier’s slender figure slightly wobbly in front of his eyes, and just when he was about to go in for a cuddle, something distracted him. ‘What is that sound?’ He turned around. Behind them there was a little hearth, the wood lightly cracking, and a beautiful, ginger cat. The cat was purring softly. The sound harmoniously blended with the gentle sizzle of the fire into a perfectly relaxing background hum. ‘This is too much,’ Geralt growled, sweating a bit. ‘I can’t. It’s verging on bad taste now.’ 

‘Oh, come on. Sure you can. You’re not even huffing and puffing as you would. You don’t look half as guarded. You’re so ready!’ Jaskier launched forwards to initiate the hug but then, suddenly, his eyes grew bigger, and he stopped mid movement. ‘You know what? I think… I think I understand what you mean.’ 

At the side of the room there was a perfect bath, steam rising from the water, some rose petals sitting on the foam. Jaskier stared at it with a weird look in his eyes.

‘What’s next? Smell of lavender in the air?’ Geralt tried his best to sound sarcastic but his voice was all wrong, soft and gentle instead. ‘There’s no way…’

But it was too late. The air already smelled of roses and peonies. 

Deeper into the room there was a long, wooden table crowded with plates, filled with the greatest delicacies either of them could imagine, and a rack full of bottles of the finest wine hidden underneath. Closer to them there was a bunch of buttercups tied into a tasteful bouquet next to a bowl of strawberries, and, just to add an insult to injury, also a bottle of massage oil, all on a little table by…

‘A huge, fancy bed?’

The both stared at it. It had a strong wooden frame with floral patterns all over it, a little too ornamental for comfort. Dark mahogany, Geralt thought, then wondered how he knows that. To his horror, there were also candles romantically flickering in the background. 

The sheets were blood red.

‘Jaskier,’ Geralt moaned helplessly.

‘It looks so comfortable.’ Jaskier walked closer to it, eyes wide and filled with joy.

Geralt jumped forward and stood in between him and the bed, protective and alarmed. ‘Don’t come near it.’ 

‘Oh, Geralt, but… I’m so tired. Can you imagine how lovely it would be if we could both just sink into this soft mattress and…’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Shit.’

‘It’s getting to you. It’s making you say things you don’t mean.’

‘No, I definitely mean that. I just wouldn’t normally say it out loud.’ 

Geralt tried so hard to roll his eyes but his eyeballs refused to cooperate and he just blinked a few times, uncomfortably.

‘Are you alright?’ Jaskier’s voice was low and resonated through Geralt, making him shiver as he tried to resist this growing feeling of reassuring familiarity which came with the sound. ‘Because I feel a bit drunk. Don’t you feel a bit drunk?’

‘It’s that sweetness in the air, so intoxicating.’

‘Yes, yes, exactly. It makes me think of a garden I used to play in as a child. I would…’

‘Stop… stop that,’ Geralt said with insistence while trying to repress the images of a cute baby Jaskier surrounded by fresh spring flowers. He closed his eyes and tried very hard to focus but when he opened them back again, he saw Jaskier sitting on the bed, his hands sinking into the soft duvet, hair in disarray. ‘What did you do to your hair?’

‘What? Nothing. I don’t remember doing anything, anyway.’ Jaskier seemed confused.

‘Do you remember sitting down?’

‘No, not really.’ Jaskier’s confusion was beginning to verge on adorable and Geralt shook his head a little. 

‘Do you remember opening your shirt up like that?’

‘Yes, I remember that.’ Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. ‘It’s so hot, Geralt. Must be the fire.’ 

Geralt wiped some sweat off his forehead, quickly. ‘I hope so,’ he muttered, quietly.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. We have to get out of here.’

Geralt remembered Jaskier’s windswept doublet with great clarity, but here he was dressed in nothing but a light, white shirt and linen trousers. Out of the wet clothes and comfortably warm, he looked happy, and relaxed, slightly mellow. He fell back and stretched on the bed, his back arching slightly, and then, as he snuggled into the pillows, his shirt rode up a bit.

One thing was certain, Geralt had to stay away from the bed, as it was clear that whatever it was that had come over them was pushing them towards it. He was just about to ask Jaskier to get out when, like through a haze, he saw him flinch and could swear a little stain of red appeared on his white shirt just below his collarbone. ‘Sit up, sit up.’ He launched towards the bed and pulled him back up, ignoring Jaskier’s shocked expression, then leaned over him, pulling the open collar further down, searching for the wound. 

Jaskier just blushed in response. 

‘I told you to stay away from this fucking bed,’ Geralt made his best attempt to sound angry but in vain. 

‘No you didn’t.’ Jaskier didn’t resist Geralt’s attempts to get the shirt off him. ‘I clearly heard you say it was fine. Didn’t you? What are you doing anyway?’ 

‘You’re hurt.’ He kept looking for any damage but all he found were perfectly shaped abs. 

‘No, I’m not.’ He looked at Geralt, his eyes shining with anticipation. ‘I’ve never felt better,’ he stated confidently, leaning backwards in unexpectedly enticing ways.

Geralt looked down at him, no longer sure of what he saw and said.

‘I feel so… weird,’ Jaskier purred in sleepy tones. ‘I suddenly have this overwhelming urge to ask you to feed me cherries and massage my feet.’

‘What? How would I even…’ Geralt was confused for a moment. ‘You mean at the same time?’

Before Jaskier managed to respond he got distracted by something appearing in his hand. It was an ornate hair brush with a gold encrusted flower embedded in its glass back. The handle was ceramic…

‘Jaskier… are you also noticing minute details of objects you normally don’t care about?’

‘I like pretty things.’ Jaskier blurted out with soft indignation. Then his eyes brightened as he realised the potential. ‘Do you want to brush my hair?’ He looked at the brush again and his eyes glazed over slightly. ‘At least I hope that’s what it’s for.’

‘Gods…’ Geralt wanted to refuse but the notion was becoming tempting. Maybe if he could tame these messy strands somehow, it would be easier to stop thinking about brushing through them with his bloody fingers. 

To save them from it, he grabbed the brush and threw it on the floor. The floor was covered in a green, black and golden carpet with elaborate floral patterns. The lozenge forms with geometric motifs were surrounded by lanced-shaped leaves... _No, wait_. 

Geralt forced himself to look away as something much more important happened. Time was malleable and it was difficult to keep track of the chronology. However, he knew for sure that as he grabbed the brush, his hand accidentally touched Jaskier’s. The moment it did, his fingers started to tingle, breath quickened, a wave of warmth mixed with arousal washed over him and he felt a strong pull as if he was being dragged into a stormy ocean by a strong, life-threatening tide. ‘Fuck.’ Geralt was stunned for a moment. ‘Did you feel that?’

Jaskier just nodded, staring at his hand, eyes wide, befuddled as if he has never seen it before. ‘I mean,’ he started, sounding breathy, ‘it’s just a hand.’

‘It doesn’t even make any sense. I was all over you just a second ago, and you were fine.’

‘I am _fine_ ,’ Jaskier said, his chest puffed with pride. ‘All over me?’ he asked, a bit disoriented.

‘Because of the… wound.’

‘If you say so.’ Jaskier didn’t seem convinced. He held out his hand towards Geralt. ‘Let’s do it again,’ he suggested, enthusiastically.

‘No way.’ Geralt was proud of himself for refusing but also noticed that he was leaning towards the bed all of a sudden. 

He felt quite overwhelmed by the situation and just looked at Jaskier not knowing what to do. His hair fell onto his cheeks in neat strands, and he felt his muscles strain underneath his shirt for no apparent reason, perhaps just to remind them of their presence.

Jaskier laughed softly. ‘You know what? If I didn’t know you, I’d call this look seductive.’

‘What do you call it knowing me?’

‘Confused.’ He fought to repress a chuckle. ‘Although…’ He blinked in disbelief. ‘I might be wrong.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Isn’t your hand on my thigh?’ 

‘What? Of course not,’ he said, looking down, and slowly realising that it was. He was mortified. His first instinct was to move away. His second, however…

He sat on the bed next to Jaskier and moved closer. It honestly didn’t take much. His shoulder barely brushed against Jaskier’s and his breath already caught in his throat while one of his hands dramatically grabbed the bed frame. Jaskier moaned softly and Geralt’s mouth ran dry. 

‘Shit, Jaskier. This is going too far.’

‘I’m not doing anything,’ he responded, sounding perfectly innocent, and, more to the point, throaty. And, worst of all, he was right.

‘We can’t trust our senses here,’ Geralt explained with urgency. ‘It’s all an illusion. Your responses don’t even match what I do. We’re in some kind of a romantic nightmare.’

‘It is romantic, isn’t it?’ Jaskier asked with pure joy in his voice. ‘I told you! But I never would have believed-’ he started but Geralt cut him off.

‘No, it’s trite. All fucking trite.’ And normally he wouldn’t say it but this time he couldn’t stop himself. ‘But you’re not.’

He didn’t mean it like that, of course. All he meant was that Jaskier was the only part of this place that was authentic, not a lie. Because he really did feel familiar and he really did radiate warmth. And he was undeniably lovable, even on a normal day. His affection towards Geralt somehow mimicked the cosy, comforting buzz of this ridiculous place.

He was the real deal amongst the cheap nonsense.

In fact, that was exactly the point. He was _that_ even in the real world. And this would get under Geralt’s skin from time to time, a little, maybe more often than he’d like to admit. But that couldn’t have been what he meant. Or maybe that was exactly what he was trying to say. It didn’t matter. Because apparently, for Jaskier, that was good enough. 

Jaskier leaned in, and brushed his lips against Geralt’s, just like that. His skin was soft and the heat of his touch was more than Geralt could handle.

 _The heat of his touch?_ Geralt made one last attempt to roll his eyes before he gave into it.

He was no stranger to the concept of kissing, obviously. And yet he did not quite anticipate the effect. It was basically a peck and yet it sent hot sparks directly to his stomach, taking his breath away, and leading his heart all the way from slower than a human’s to fucking racing. 

Jaskier was shy at first, as if he was making sure it was definitely what Geralt wanted. And thanks gods for that because Geralt’s chest was heaving, and he felt a little dizzy even with this minimal contact.

Jaskier was a bit unsure despite Geralt's undeniably positive response. His hope that this might, in fact, be desirable was so strong, it felt inebriating. 

When Geralt’s hands moved up Jaskier’s back and pushed him forwards, Jaskier hesitated no more. He climbed up to his lap and kissed him hard, pressing himself against Geralt, every bit of contact loaded with years of repressed need. 

Geralt saw the stars, his head swimming, and it took all his strength to keep himself together. 

It was truly remarkable. He had never felt so wanted before. And knowing Jaskier felt this way all along only added intensity to the moment. Geralt resisted it for years. It was not always easy. In fact, it was becoming more and more difficult each day. 

Finally letting go felt like freedom. Just like that, this place was a trap no more. Here they were, using this fluffy prison to escape all the traps which confined them before. 

Everything Geralt had seen behind Jaskier’s eyes in the past was now out in the open. And this time, it did so much more than just turn into sadness and bitterness as years went by. They were the happiest they’ve ever been, nothing holding them back. 

Geralt fell back into the sheets, Jaskier’s weight on him, and he returned the kiss, pulling him close.

Then, suddenly, something shifted, and for a short while, he forgot about the mad flood of sensations and just focused on Jaskier as he knew him rather than as he was now. He thought about all the years and squirmed, ashamed. This was most definitely what Jaskier wanted and for the first time Geralt could finally give him all that. They could simply never leave the bed again with no fear of being discovered, eat the ridiculously delicious food, sleep long into the day with Geralt’s nose buried in Jaskier’s hair, arms wrapped around him. 

The realisation scared him and he pulled away from Jaskier for a moment. ‘Shit, I know why they never leave. We’re so fucking... fucked.’ 

Jaskier didn’t seem the tiniest bit worried by that perspective and pulled him right back in.

Geralt was _the_ dream, the ultimate fantasy, the source of complete wish-fulfillment, the prize worth decades of striving and heartbreak, and nothing could quite compare to that. And he felt that in Jaskier’s every breath, so good it almost seemed like… ‘Jaskier… Jaskier, stop. This can’t be right. Whose fantasy is it?’

‘What?’ He suddenly seemed lost but was unwilling to let go all the same.

‘We can’t both be here.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Is it you or me?’

‘It’s both,’ Jaskier said with a smile, an irresistible smirk that it was. Geralt fought to ignore it.

‘No, no, it can’t be. When two people who... care about each other go in, they never get out alive. That’s what they said. We both heard them say it.’ 

Jaskier just shrugged his shoulders, not really interested.

‘Come on, think,’ Geralt insisted. ‘I remember going with you but I would never be so stupid. I wouldn’t.’ His mind started to clear a bit. ‘I would have realised and left you behind. Shit, I did, didn’t I? I _fucking_ did. This fantasy must be mine,’ he said with pure embarrassment.

‘If it really is only one of us then it must be mine, I mean… clearly.’

‘No. It’s not nearly as fucking clear as I’d like.’

‘If you say so,’ Jaskier agreed, gladly, a wide smile on his face. He was flattered. ‘So if you did leave me behind… would you leave this place to come back for me? Like in those stories?’ Jaskier’s eyes lit up with excitement. 

‘Eager to know, aren’t you?’ Geralt shook his head, but somehow didn’t feel like teasing. ‘But did I really?’ He considered it. ‘What did you do when we first came in?’

‘Nothing much. Oh, wait, no.’ Jaskier did his best to focus. ‘I touched the flower crown’.

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘What?’

‘You didn’t. I did.’ Geralt was visibly shaken up by the realisation. ‘This is mine. It’s all me.’ 

Jaskier looked at him and something in his eyes changed.

‘Don’t look so terrified,’ he said, all tenderness evaporating from his voice. ‘Not all of it is yours, as you say. Some of it is just what works for most people.’

It wasn’t Jaskier. Of course, it wasn’t.

‘Well, it’s not working on me,’ Geralt snapped. Knowing what was happening made him feel instantly awake and lucid. 

‘Something is working.’ The apparition smiled, and it was Jaskier’s smile, unsettling. ‘We offer nothing but comfort. Why would you go back into the world? All that awaits you there is cruelty, rejection and heartbreak.’

‘That’s just life,’ he growled with annoyance. ‘Where’s Jaskier? Is he outside?’

‘Well, he’s not here.’ It shook its head. ‘Do you mind? Or is that better?’

Geralt looked away and hesitated for a moment. It was better. Jaskier was safe. It meant everything was back to normal between them. But that was also worse, much worse. ‘And why do you think it might be better?’ he asked, puzzled by what it could possibly want.

‘He’ll never know what happened here so there’s no limit to what you can do.’ Jaskier’s face smiled, his look both dazed and snide. ‘And for all intents and purposes, I am exactly the same.’

‘Exactly the same, huh?’ 

‘Mhm,’ Jaskier nodded slightly while grabbing Geralt’s hand and dragging it down with a soft groan. ‘I am him and want what he wants. Do you really want to get out?’ He tilted his head, curious. ‘I don’t trap anyone, you see, not really. All you need to do is break the crown and you can leave, any time. But is that what you want? Or would you prefer something else?’

Geralt swallowed loudly.

***

Geralt stormed out of the door and saw Jaskier lifting up from the floor, relieved. There was an expression of pure awe on his face, which he didn’t even attempt to hide.

‘Gods, Geralt.’ His eyes started to water and he looked away, embarrassed. ‘You really know how to drive me mad. I thought… I couldn’t get in. I tried and tried. I waited and… Are you alright? What happened there?’ Jaskier asked with urgency. ‘Was… Did I… Was I… Was it _me_ that...’ He struggled to find the words and was afraid to ask directly.

Geralt looked straight back at him, rattled. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s done. I destroyed it.’ He shrugged his shoulders, tried his best to look indifferent, and started walking away.

Jaskier followed. ‘Hey, don’t… don’t do that.’ 

Geralt heard a worrying mix of sadness and hope in Jaskier’s voice, stopped and turned to him. Still on the verge of tears, Jaskier was obviously moved by Geralt’s return.

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Geralt sighed, shaking his head.

‘No, it’s just because...’ 

‘Don’t read too much into it,’ he muttered, sharply.

Jaskier stared for a moment. ‘Me? Reading into this? Can you imagine?’ he laughed, nervously. ‘Of course not! Would that even cross my mind? _Never_. And if it ever did, I’d stop immediately.’ He looked away for a moment, a bit sad. ‘Stupid, stupid, me,’ he whispered loud enough for Geralt to hear.

Geralt rolled his eyes but his look seemed more helpless than anything else. 

‘Could you at least…’ Jaskier started and held out his arms. ‘I was worried about you.’

‘Good for you,’ he growled, dismissively. 

Jaskier was stunned for a second. His mood turned quickly. ‘You… fucking… ungrateful…’ 

‘For fuck’s sake, fine!’ 

He came closer and let Jaskier pull him into a tight embrace. Suddenly he felt so glad he was back, relieved like he couldn’t believe. Jaskier was a mess, emotions running high, so many and so contradictory. Geralt didn’t even want to know. But it was Jaskier alright, unmistakably so, in all his hopeless glory, holding on to Geralt with resigned desperation, a little bit shocked by the fact his hug was actually being returned. 

‘What was it like in there?’ Jaskier asked after a moment, curious.

And for some reason, being stuck in this hug made it easier for Geralt to open up a bit. ‘Gods, it was… easy, so easy. No problems, no conflict, no consequences, none of the shit I have to deal with here, no change, no danger but... a bit empty, somehow, and a little… very weird, actually. And everything just felt…’ He took a deep breath, a bit sad all of a sudden ‘… _fine_ , the whole time.’ He squeezed Jaskier harder without realising. ‘Better than fine.’

‘Oh, so…’ Jaskier hesitated for a moment ‘… it was boring, then?’

Geralt repressed a laugh. ‘Yes, Jaskier, so boring.’ But his amusement quickly turned bitter. ‘I think you would have liked it, though.’

‘Me?’ Jaskier seemed outraged by the idea. ‘I live for the drama, Geralt. Why else would I follow you around?’

‘Yes, why would you…’

They stayed silent for a moment. Jaskier shifted uncomfortably in Geralt’s embrace.

‘You could tell me more, you know,’ Jaskier said, finally. ‘I think you’re being stingy on the details again.’

He just grunted in agreement.

‘Was it boredom that made you come back?’ Jaskier asked before he managed to bite his tongue, flinching a bit.

‘No.’

‘What then?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Why won’t you tell me?’

‘We’re _never_ talking about this again.’

‘We barely started-’

‘Exactly.’

Geralt huffed, moving away. ‘We should go.’

Jaskier looked at him with a tinge of sadness in his eyes. ‘I really thought you might just leave me here,’ he admitted with shame.

Geralt opened his mouth ready to say something but didn’t. ‘You just started panicking way too early,’ he blurted out, annoyed.

Jaskier seemed puzzled and a bit hurt. ‘Geralt, you were gone for days.’

Geralt turned a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden. His hand ran over his hair, awkwardly. He seemed disappointed in himself for reasons Jaskier didn’t quite understand. There was an echo of softness in his eyes when he finally looked back at Jaskier. ‘It didn’t feel long to me.’

THE END

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤️
> 
> This was Part 1 of my ["Be Careful What You Wish For" series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866862). Please subscribe. They are separate stories connected by a common theme. The next one is called _The Binding Spell_ and involves another sinister curse. It promises to test and strengthen relationships and yet a lot of people end up dead 🤷 The outline is ready and I should be able to get on with writing soon.
> 
> Or simply [subscribe to me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaire_Seton) and I'll bring you as many fics as I can possibly produce. I have an advanced addiction to Geraskier so you can trust me to keep writing these until I burn out and fall apart (and I still have some life in me!). 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, you might like my other Geraskier fic, _[The Spring of Burning Forests](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355795/chapters/58733140)_. It's in canon, 10 chapters long, and actually has a happy ending. If my take on Fluff Week was a bit too melancholy for your current needs, _TSoBF_ might compensate, although there's a lot of angst along the way. 
> 
> Also, follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BlaireSeton) or [Tumblr](http://oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co.tumblr.com/) if you want to see what I'm up to.
> 
> Thank you to [Kelly](https://twitter.com/kneilsonphoto) for continuous support ❤️ Also, [Almighty Sound](https://www.facebook.com/AlmightySoundMusic/Almighty%20Sound) is always out there making me feel appreciated ❤️
> 
> As always, [LovelyRita1967](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRita1967/pseuds/LovelyRita1967) has done amazing beta work. If it wasn't for her, the first scene would just be cryptic nonsense. I went way too far with implying versus stating and she didn't let me get away with it. All the glorious clarity we have here comes from her. Thank you, Rita, for being a wonderful friend and saving me from myself ❤️


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